


Taste a bit like everyone

by gloss



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Celebration sex, Cunnilingus, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Hand Jobs, Multi, PIV, Poe has beautiful parents, Polyamory, Post-RotJ, Shattered Empire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6418363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celebrations on the forest moon of Endor go a little differently (but just as fervently).</p><p><i>You're so pretty when you're unfaithful to me/Your blistered lips/Have got a kiss/They taste a bit like everyone</i> (The Pixies, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3r-xMt9JmM">Bone Machine</a>)</p><p>Despite that lyric, <b>no infidelity</b>, just lots of polyamorous happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taste a bit like everyone

**Author's Note:**

> For the PBAM Prompt Stack prompt: _Star Wars: Shattered Empire, Leia Organa/Shara Bey/Kes Dameron/Han Solo, reunite, knees_ and my trope bingo square "altered states".
> 
> Many thanks to those who commiserated over and helped with the foursome algebra. ♥

Victory comes in an explosion that rocks her in her craft, knocks her head against one side, then the other, sends her spinning. 

She dodges and dives the X-Wing, hurrying to land, tapping the controls impatiently when mission control queues her well behind squad leaders and the injured. 

While she queues, and then again on the shuttle down to the moon, Shara does her best not to think of what makes up the chunks of debris flung out in every direction. Small bits pitter-pat against fuselage; larger pieces knock and rattle dully. Like children's toys, they fly whether thrown in a tantrum or a celebration. Souls and corpses, circuits and bulkhead panels, the _Emperor_.

This can't be enough, but everyone says it is. They did it.

Moonside, there is even more chaos than up in the sky - bodies in motion along every possible vector, thuds of competing drums, whoops and whirling dances. Firelight leaps and sprays, bright as day in some spots. Shara accepts drinks as she pushes through the woods, stumbles down swaying Ewok bridges, makes her way in search of Kes.

Everyone thinks they know where the Pathfinders are, but it's always a different answer. 

She is starting to lag when she takes one more branching path and nearly knocks over a small human woman.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for the Pathfinders? Specforce, the ground squad?"

She wishes she'd waited long enough to see who she'd addressed, because now Shara has no idea how to extricate herself from the company of the living, breathing _Princess of Alderaan_.

A princess who's wavering for balance and looking a little worse for wear, as it turns out.

Leia braces her hand on Shara's shoulder so she can fix her shoe. "It's not a bother. Looking for them myself."

She stumbles a little against Shara, who catches her up and sets her back on her feet.

"Sorry," Leia says. "I've been..."

"We're all celebrating," Shara says. She slips her arm around Leia's waist so she won't fall again, then tugs her even closer. "Sober, I'd never do this."

Leia beams up at her, hair in her eyes and stuck to her cheeks. "Why not?"

"Have you looked this way?" Shara points off to the right, where there's a dim sense of fires and dancing (but then again, that applies to every spot in the woods tonight).

Leia frowns, thinking. "Did I? I...yes?" When she grins, blinking up at Shara, she looks like a pretty child caught lying. "Maybe."

"Let's check anyway."

Leia tries to lead the way, but Shara's balance is far more sure; she's also a lot more cautious, less likely to run _at_ a fallen log, more inclined to clamber over it.

They slide down the biggest log yet, landing in soft moss and fallen leaves. Just ahead are the lights of a fire and sounds of shouting.

Leia tilts against Shara again, then half-tips, half-sighs, into Shara's lap, looking up at her. Her face is streaked with gold firelight and dark green shadows.

"We did it," she whispers and points upward, at the sky, at the bits of the Death Star still flaring as they enter the atmosphere. " _We did it._ "

"We did," Shara whispers back, not sure why they're talking like it's a secret. She brushes the sweaty hair back off Leia's temple and cheek. "We really did."

Sitting up suddenly, so quickly that Shara's knocked back against the log, Leia flings her arms around Shara's neck and kisses her. It's a celebration, Shara tells herself, she does this for a living, congratulating the ordinary people. But the kiss doesn't end. Leia's mouth is soft and wide, mobile against Shara's, rich with traces of Corellian brandy and Yavinian wine and who knows what else. Her hands tangle in Shara's hair in no time at all. She's still laughing as they kiss, shoulders heaving with it, her breath breaking in sweet little bursts against Shara's lips. 

She hasn't kissed many other people since she married Kes; she hasn't kissed another woman for even longer, not since convocation night at the academy, if she remembers right. But even if she had, if she were single and playing the field as hard as possible, she would still feel this kiss, right down into her bones, twisting her up and tightening her skin and bellowing heat down her chest and in her hands.

Her palms skate up and down Leia's shoulders and arms, then her waist, and she wants, she really wants, to touch Leia's breasts. Her hands itch to cup their round weight, so her thumbs can find nipples, stroke them hard and longing, but Shara makes herself pull back. She breaks the kiss, gently, and smiles apologetically.

"Let's keep looking, all right?"

Leia's eyes move over Shara's face, as if she's reading something there. Her own expression is illegible, at least to Shara. "All right."

Back on her feet, Shara pulls Leia up - she weighs less than nothing, and Shara's maybe stronger, definitely more turned on, than she'd admit, so when she yanks up, Leia pitches forward again, right up against Shara. If it's going to keep happening, it's going to keep happening, apparently. Shara wraps her arm around Leia's waist and they set off.

The firelight makes the trees ahead of them into mere black stalks, nearly insubstantial. It's harder to make out the ground below them and Shara slows down even more. She can smell Leia's hair; it tickles her neck.

"Did you hear that?" Leia whispers, stopping short and clutching Shara's arm with both hands. She peers off the path, into what seems to be more ferns, a thicket of ancient greens.

Shara humors her. She can hear hoots and hollers, Ewok songs and drums, but that's been the case all night. She could hear all that well before she stepped off the shuttle. She cocks her head and listens, and, sure enough, that's something else. It's a soft whimper, rising and falling, a dear, needy, private sound. 

She grins down at Leia when she realizes they're eavesdropping on someone having sex.

"Surprised we haven't heard that kind of thing more," she whispers. They've probably passed any number of couplings and groups, but it's so loud, who would ever know?

Leia tugs on Shara's hand. "Let's go look."

"Ma'am, no --" Shara tries to pull her back, but Leia is already dropping to a crouch and picking her way through the underbrush. Hand still in Leia's small one, Shara follows. The ferns brush over their faces and bend out of their way; the ground is so covered with leaves that their approach is relatively silent.

Besides, it's getting pretty loud just ahead.

"Call me Leia," she says, right up against Shara's ear, as she pushes back the largest frond yet. "All right?"

"Yes, ma'am --. All right. Leia." She's holding Leia's shoulder now, looking just over the top of her head. 

She can't remember feeling this tense with silly, but entirely sincere, excitement, nor this captivated by a sudden, fervent friendship, not since she was a kid. 

They peer out into a small clearing.

There are two men at the foot of an immense tree, cradled by its roots. The one facing them is shadowed, indistinct save for his knees, but the other, kneeling between the first's legs, head bobbing, is clear as anything in the cast of firelight. It's impossible to tell who was whimpering, then moaning, just a moment ago. Now there're softer panting breaths and loud, enthusiastic groans mixed with wet, wet sucking noises.

"Han Solo, what do you think you're doing?" Leia doesn't sound like a girl any longer, not even a princess. She sounds _enormous_ , autocratic, inarguably in charge. Every millimeter a general, and then some.

Shara has to fight the urge to salute, then turn tail and run.

But Solo takes his time pulling off and looking over his shoulder. "There you are, princess. Took your time coming round here, didn't you?"

"And where is here, exactly?"

Solo shrugs just one shoulder and pats the man's knee. "Lost a bet, making good on it."

"Something you've never done in your life."

"Well." He grins. "Depends on the terms, doesn't it?"

Under Shara's hand, Leia's posture softens a little. Her voice does, too, quite a bit. "Suppose it must."

"Besides, looks I'm not the only one who brought a friend," he says and lifts his chin, squinting, to call, "Welcome! What's your name, honey?"

"You're repulsive," Leia tells him cheerfully as she takes Shara's hand again, almost protectively. "Don't leave your man waiting. _Pretend_ to have some manners, at least."

"You're the boss." He grins again, ducking his head, then turns back. The firelight picks out the flexing line of his shoulders, the sweat-plastered fabric at the small of his back, and one knee of his partner. The man pushes his hand through Han's hair, cupping the back of his skull, groaning loud and long when Han's mouth takes him again.

Shara fails to stifle her gasp.

Leia turns, silent, but there are questions swimming in her eyes.

"That's Kes," Shara whispers, but why would Leia know the name? Or even know that is a name? She shakes her head. "That's --"

"Your partner," Leia replies. Maybe she's just a very good guesser. "He speaks so highly of you, you know."

There's too much happening. 

Shara counts backward from five, just as she does in a firefight, when TIEs are clipping her and ion cannons are firing and shields won't deploy and the droid is running hot.

None of this is nearly that deadly, of course. But it's also so much messier and more complicated. She decides to pursue the warmest feeling first - Kes, talking about her, and Leia smiling about it - and sets aside everything else, all the murkier and more ambiguous things, until she's sober, rested, relatively clear-headed. 

"I'm away a lot of the time," she tells Leia, trying to explain _something_. What, she's not entirely sure of herself. 

She pauses when Kes's moans speed up, stuttering, then breaking. He's coming. She knows that noise so well - she can see his eyes screwed shut, his full lower lip as his mouth drops open, the tendons in his neck leaping up and straining, but more than that, deeper than that, she _feels_ the noise inside herself, in her cunt and strung across her nipples, a twanging electroharp wire. She never quite grasped before how strange and kind of beautiful it is that she can get more aroused just from the sound of his pleasure. And now it's sweeping her away.

Shara's still looking over at Han and Kes - Han's rising up and kissing Kes - so she startles when Leia touches her cheek, fingertips in her hair, lifting stray pieces up and back. Her thumb grazes the corner of Shara's mouth.

Sadness passes over her, like wind, stirring but not lingering. When it's gone, there's only relief. She tilts her head and kisses Leia again. More deeply this time, less hysterically, and she wraps her arms around Leia's narrow body, pulling her up against her chest, up to straddle one knee. The firelight picks out the underside of the fern fronds over and around them, lurid reds and golds flung over softly textured shadows. Shara's hands come to rest on Leia's waist, and she takes her time in the kiss, in how strong Leia is, but how soft her skin, and lips, and mouth are. She sinks into it all, like falling in place, warmth brimming over her. 

When Leia starts to move against her, hands on the sides of Shara's breasts, thumbs stroking and seeking, Shara mimics the movement and sways, a little dizzily.

"Ladies," Solo says. There are soft sounds of steps through leaves, and then someone's cupping the back of her skull and sinking to a squat before them.

"Dameron," he calls over his shoulder. "Change of venue."

Kes grunts back. He's always sleepy-lazy just after coming. Shara slows, then breaks the kiss and grins up at Solo. "We'll come over."

She's helping Leia up when she hears Kes, thick-voiced and confused as he is every morning at reveille. " _Shar_?"

All her urgency, that overwhelming need to find him that drove her through most of the evening and half of this forest, rushes back. Shara crosses the clearing in a few long strides and drops down next to him, arms around his neck. Kissing him, tasting all the sweat and liquor and sex he's already enjoyed, excites her even more.

"Hey, baby," she says, pulling back, kissing his nose. "You live! Guess I worried for nothing."

"And you?" He clutches at her, waist and shoulders, pushing his mouth against hers, against her cheeks and neck and chest, inhaling and kissing all at once. 

"Good, I'm good," she says, smoothing her hand over his close-cropped, springy hair. "Playing catch up with _your_ night, it sounds like."

He gazes up at her, wide brown eyes that catch glimmers of firelight, and smiles a little, shyly but without a trace of shame. "I --. Yeah. General lost a bet."

"Sure," she says, tugging on his earlobe. "And sergeant's just keeping him honest."

"Part of the job, sure," he says and kisses her again, pulling her down into his lap until she's straddling him. He's so much _broader_ than Leia, which is an obvious thing, but her mind is working at a very obvious, entirely straightforward level just now. He's broad and his muscles move right under her palms, and he smells like spunk and sour sweat, and she can't stop kissing him, biting his lips and worrying at them, letting his silly goatee scrape up a burn on her cheek and chin.

He's getting hard again under her and grins when she reaches between them to stroke him lightly.

"You are truly a miracle of nature," she tells him, repeating one of her favorite jokes. His refractory period should be studied by scientists the galaxy over.

He lifts his face from between her breasts to say, "I'm easily inspired, see."

"I _do_ see." She firms her touch and he pants a little, pushing up against her. 

When she kneels up to pull down her own breeches, he helps-but-doesn't, cupping her, tracing the wetness on her thighs, and she laughs, bats his hands away not very strongly. He looks around and whispers, "Were you really with. With _her_?"

Shara bites her lip while she gets one leg free of her breeches, which, frankly, is more than enough for her purposes. She cocks her head and plays dumb. "With who?"

Kes squeezes his eyes shut, then looks up at her again and, still whispering, says, " _You know_. The princess."

She pulls his hand between her legs, lets him spread his fingers and grasp her whole pussy, thumb teasing her clit a little, before she responds. He's _so_ good with his hands. It's hard to breathe at first. "Oh, Leia?"

Kes's fingers clutch and flex against her. She understands; everyone here is at least half in love with Leia (and Skywalker, and even Solo), Shara included.

"Yes?" Leia asks, hugging Shara from behind, kissing her neck through her hair.

Kes has nowhere to escape, and he doesn't even know where to look, but his hand's still working, stroking Shara open, strumming her clit. She moans a little, turning to see Leia, kissing her again. Kes's cock is hard against her leg, as he works two, then four, fingers inside her. 

"Congratulations, general," Kes says. "Quite a victory." 

Shara could kiss him, all over again, because he really is the sweetest, dearest man she's ever known, polite to a fault, ridiculously so.

Leia doesn't laugh, but kisses him, too, one hand still on Shara's breast, small sharp nails against her nipple just as hard as Shara likes it, like bites.

"So cozy," Solo says, sarcasm heavy enough to crush small mammals. "You three getting along?"

"We're fine," Leia tells him. "Probably all set, as a matter of fact."

"Yeah, figured," he says and huffs out a long breath, hands on his hips, as he looks around the clearing. "Maybe I'll go find Chewie or Luke, see what someone who'd be glad to see me is up to."

"You do that," Leia says.

"Hey, no --" Kes says, reaching up with his free hand. "C'mon, sir, there's no need --"

"Damn, Dameron." Solo grins down at him. "You, I like. And your lady's pretty great."

Shara shifts forward, rising up on her knees a little, displacing Kes's hand so she can take hold of his cock and sink down. She loses track of where everyone is, what's happening - if she let it, this could be more confusing than any skirmish, with at least four vectors, maybe eight if you count each hand, to consider at all times - while she's taking Kes in. The night, all the sensation, fuses into the stretch and fullness inside her, familiar as anything, and perfect for that. When she's done, and he's right up against her, balls squashing against her ass, her awareness expands again.

Solo's sitting on a big root knot, knees far apart so he can lean in. He is - she realizes, and when she does, she clenches around Kes, then bucks, and keeps bucking, her clit riding his the rough nest of his hair - Solo is licking and sucking and _slobbering_ on Kes's fingers, tasting _her_ , his cheeks hollowed and eyes fluttering closed like this is bliss.

"He's an insatiable pig," Leia whispers in her ear on Shara's other side, and, dazed, Shara turns, mouth open, to push right into another kiss. Maybe the same one, just prolonged, resuming now, sticky and so wet, and she can taste traces of Kes, of her own juices, in Leia's mouth.

Kes has her by the hips, fucking up into her, grunting every time she thrusts forward, and Shara thinks - but can't be certain, because she's not going to stop kissing Leia any time soon - that he's kissing Solo. She can hear the unmistakable sounds of someone jerking off, palm on dick, slick with spit. She'd have to concentrate and do the math, calculate too much, to figure out whose hand is on Solo. He's a lot closer now, back on his knees (she can almost hear Leia's fond exasperation: "his favorite position"), kissing Kes so deeply that Kes is leaning to the side, fucking Shara while Solo mouth-fucks him. 

She doesn't blame Solo in the least - in fact, she has to give him credit for excellent taste. Leia, and now Kes, are beautiful and anyone with half a brain would want to kiss them all night long. Kes kisses the way most people make small talk, for any number of reasons, but always enthusiastically, always with enough verve to make you the most important person in the room.

"I want --" Shara says, against Leia's cheek, then stops. She twists on Kes's cock, rubbing herself in quick, jittery little thrusts, and sucks on Leia's neck, her shoulder, her chin.

"Anything," Leia tells her, softening her touch on Shara's breast, making it so gentle it becomes nearly unbearable. She tugs Shara's head back with a handful of hair and kisses her, bending her back. Kes slips out when Shara falls back, but hauls one of her legs up around his waist and pushes back in, and Leia just keeps kissing her. Solo says something, and Kes kisses him again. 

Shara's sprawled on her back, Kes thrusting into her, and Shara blinks up at the sky, so far above, tree branches scoring the clouds and stars. She sees Solo jerking himself, still kissing Kes like he's compelled to, and she can feel Kes, so hard inside her, pushing deeper.

"You," she mutters to Leia and reaches, half-blind and awkward, to thud her hand against Leia's thigh, her lap. "Can I. Can I taste you?"

That sounds terrible. How, though, are you supposed to say, _I want to make you come on my face_ , to a princess? 

Now her eyes do clear, or Leia comes into focus, filling her entire field of vision, pink curving smile and bright dark eyes. "Please. Please do."

Leaves and sticks, rocks and pebbles, insect carapaces and shards of moss, who knows what else, are scraping at Shara from ass to the nape of her neck, but she only feels the abrasion as more pleasure, spread all over, almost enough for each pore, lighting her up. She's coming on Kes, moaning and jerking up as Leia straddles her chest and holds her face, to watch Shara's orgasm, close-up and enthralled. Shara tries so hard to keep her eyes open, until Leia looks like she's floating there, commanding the shocks and waves rushing through her. 

When she finishes, and Kes is still thrusting, harder and more jagged now, she ramps back up, feels another orgasm circling and tightening, coming closer as Leia pushes forward, kneeling over Shara's head, rocking slow and sweet against her mouth. 

She is soaked, her clit standing up, nudging aside her outer lips, demanding attention. Shara sucks on it, rolls the bulb-like head between her lips, pressing it against tongue. She can hear Leia's moans, so loud but so distant, and lower, deeper noises, as Kes and Solo tangle up. Solo - it has to be, not that she wants to devote any mental energy to tracking and identifying, not while Leia's spilling into her mouth, sweeping herself side to side and up and down against Shara's lapping tongue - Solo starts to come, a few drops hitting Shara's hip.

"Let me, sir -" That's Kes, helpful and thoughtful like no one else, and then Solo's just full-on shouting as he comes and comes. Leia must be looking over her shoulder; her lips are folding around Shara's mouth, taking her tongue against the hole.

Kes grabs Shara's hips, hands sticky with Solo's come, holding her still, driving in as he comes, and someone must be kissing him again, because the sound of his orgasm is lot softer, more muffled, than usual. He likes to stay inside, usually, but this is different. Bodies are shuffling around; a knee catches Shara in the ribs, someone yelps, hair gets pulled, but she can feel the clench of Leia's thighs, her orgasm impending, so Shara just wraps her arms around Leia's legs, holding her still, hands flexing on her ass as she sucks at Leia's clit just as hard as Shara herself likes. She pulls it long and swollen from the root, and when Leia does start coming, she shudders and trembles and _gushes_ on Shara's mouth, down her chin.

Her hands are numb with pins and needles, her neck threatening to seize up with a weird cramp, and she's never going to get all the debris out of her hair, but Shara can't imagine moving from where she is right now. Kes is settling against her, kissing her face, tasting Leia, and Leia is still straddling Shara's chest, kissing Solo, her tiny hand on his broad chest, pushing and tilting him to her specifications and expectations.

Another piece of the Death Star explodes as it comes into the atmosphere, blue then gold fire, right over them. _We did it_ , Shara thinks all over again, waiting to fully believe it, wondering if it will ever sink in. 

"All I'm _saying_ , your excellency," Solo is saying, "is that everyone else got to fuck the lovely lieutenant except for me. Hardly fair."

Shara pushes up a little on one elbow; Kes, sleepy and fucked out, grunts and nudges closer. "Sir, all you had to do is ask."

"He prefers complaining," Leia tells her, as Solo helps her to her feet, off Shara. "It's just how it is."

Solo has his arms around her, face buried in her hair, and he rocks back and forth, carrying her with him. Finally he says, a little indistinctly, "Maybe another time, Lieutenant. Day's catching up with me finally."

Leia pats his forearm and presses her cheek against his chest. "Where to, captain?"

"Well, I'm not sleeping on this shit," Solo says and kicks Kes's shoulder lightly. "Dameron, you conscious?"

"He's going to need a bit," Shara says, tugging up her breeches before she rolls onto her side, arm going over him. She kisses his ear, then the hot skin over his temple and soft line of his hair. "Really gives it his all, each and every time."

Smirking, Solo salutes them, the gesture sloppy and sarcastic. The last thing Shara sees before she closes her eyes is the uneven silhouette of tall, rangy Solo and small, delicate Leia, getting swallowed up by the firelight and the night.

Kes kisses her neck, then the underside of her chin. 

"We did it," Shara says, eyes closed, sleep heavy as it starts to steal over her.

"I love you," he replies, and that's it, that's everything.


End file.
